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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29804037">The Idle Pleasures of these Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/richbrook/pseuds/richbrook'>richbrook</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:54:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29804037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/richbrook/pseuds/richbrook</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dutch falls into one of his black moods, it’s up to you to help him forget about everything for a while.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dutch van der Linde/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Idle Pleasures of these Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CW for poor relationship/sex etiquette and unhealthy possessive behaviour.</p><p>For the purposes of this fic, Molly does not exist. Sorry, Molly.</p><p>(Honestly, I don't know what this is lol I’m not very happy with this fic but I needed to get it out of my system so I’m leaving it up for now)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your hands were starting to cramp up, already stinging from the baking soda you were using to scrub away a stubborn bloodstain on a pair of saddle pants. To whom exactly the pants belonged, you did not know, but you curse all the men in camp regardless. The muggy air of the stagnant swamps surrounding Shady Belle is oppressively humid and serves to make you more irritable.</p><p>You’re scouring the offending garment over the washing board when you hear a commotion coming from the balcony of the dilapidated plantation house behind you.</p><p>“—won’t cut it anymore. Confound you both!” Dutch’s voice carries over camp and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “If you’re not with me, then you’re against me, do you understand?!”</p><p>You crane your head to look up and see Hosea gesticulating wildly and Arthur beside him leaning against the balcony railing, his head bowed.  You strain your ears to catch some of Hosea’s words.</p><p>“—fool’s errand born out of greed and petty revenge. Surely, you cannot be so blind to—”</p><p>“Do not speak to me of blindness!” Dutch bellows. “It’s you two who are so preoccupied with the past you’re completely blind to our future!” His voice trails off as he storms back into his room—your shared room—but you hear something about <i>“simpering maidens”</i> and Arthur’s indistinguishable protests as he and Hosea follow him inside.</p><p>You sigh and return your attention to the washing, catching the eye of Mary-Beth and Tilly sitting nearby mending some socks. They offer you sympathetic smiles. You purse your lips and start scrubbing the trousers off the washboard once more.</p><p>Their pity irks you more than you would care to confess. You might be his partner, but Dutch’s tirades subjected on other members of the gang are not reflective of you or your relationship. You’re scrubbing the pants with more force than necessary when a dark shadow is cast over you.</p><p>“Say what you want about this shithole... Least we’re never short on entertainment.”</p><p>You need not look up to see who it is. You sigh. “What do you want, Micah.”</p><p>“Nothin’,” he says absently, but you can hear the smirk in his tone. “Just came over to see what all the caterwaulin’ was about.”</p><p>You’re in no mood for Micah’s presence right now. Granted, he’s not as cruel to you as he is to the other people in camp. His needling could be described as petty at worst. Of course, you’re under no illusion that he likes or respects you any more than anyone else here. He covets Dutch’s praise and fears his wrath, so being Dutch’s girl, you’re spared the brunt of his cruelty. That, however, doesn’t make him any more palatable. Especially when you catch him sneaking a glance down your blouse, as you have on several occasions.</p><p>You sit back on your haunches, wiping your pruned fingers on your lap. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Uncomfortable with kneeling at his boots while he looms over you, you stand up. As expected, his mouth is twisted into that smarmy grin, his pale eyes gleaming with amusement. It’s nauseating. “Got your fill of theatrics for today or are you going to go stir up some more trouble?”</p><p>“Darlin’, you wound me.” He pouts in mock affront and places his hand over the cavity in his chest where a heart would lie if the bastard had one. He folds his arms, leans back against a wagon and heaves a put-upon sigh. “It grieves me to no end to see people at each other’s throat like this. Just don’t understand why we can’t all just… get along.”</p><p>You scoff and shake your head. “Yeah, I can see you’re real torn up about it.”</p><p>The sound of shattering glass comes from your room beyond the balcony. You whip around and half expect to see someone falling out of a window, but there is nothing to be seen and by the sounds of it, the three men are still hollering at each other. Nobody dead then.</p><p>Micah chuckles, that awful, grating rumble that sets your teeth on edge. “Better go check on your man, missy.” His voice is beside your ear and you repress a shiver. “Before somebody gets hurt.”</p><p>“It ain’t my business and it sure as hell ain’t none of yours,” you snap. His eyes are burning with glee, delighted that his barbs are riling you up. You hate that you’ve played right into his hands and sigh wearily. “Just.. go bother someone else, Micah. I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>“Aw, sugarpie…” he croons, no doubt about to badger you some more, but then the front doors of the house burst open and Hosea storms out with Arthur in quick succession.</p><p>“--done with that pig-headed son of a bitch, Arthur!” Hosea seethes, as mad as you’ve ever seen him. “With God as my witness, I’m through!”</p><p>“Hosea, wait,” Arthur calls after him in vain. “Just hold up and talk to me dammit!”</p><p>“Just a damn shame to see it all come to this.” Micah doesn’t even bother to disguise his shit-eating grin. “Well, I’ll catch you later, Y/N. Seems like you’re gonna have a busy day ahead.” He sidles away with that loathsome laugh of his as Hosea pelts out of camp on Silver Dollar.</p><p>You shake your head and drop to your hunkers again to take out your frustrations on the blood-stained pants. You’re not ten seconds at it when a shadow enters your field of vision once more.</p><p>“Micah, I swear to God—” you look up to see Arthur peering down at you. All pale and morose, a deep crease in his brow. “Oh, Arthur. Sorry. I thought you were…”</p><p>“Micah.” He arches a thick brow. “He been hasslin’ you?”</p><p>“No, it’s nothin’. Pass no heed.” You shake your head dismissively and stand, wiping your hands on the front of your skirts. “That was a mighty racket there. You boys okay?”</p><p>“Truth be told, Y/N, no.” Arthur sighs. “Things are far from okay.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that…”</p><p>“You need to speak with him.”</p><p>That gives you pause. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“Dutch,” Arthur says. “He’s losin’ it. Got all these grand schemes in his head—each more harebrained than the last and each one winds up with all of us getting’ killed. You need to talk some sense into him.”</p><p>“Don’t put me in the middle of this, Arthur, please.” You rub your brow, a sharp pain blooming behind your eyes. “It’s not my place.”</p><p>“It is your place when he’s puttin’ all our lives at risk,” Arthur says exasperatedly. “These days he could care less what I think and he won’t even take Hosea’s counsel no more. He’ll listen to you.”</p><p>You’d laugh if you didn’t feel so upset. “The hell he will,” you say. “You’re grossly overestimating any influence I hold over him.”</p><p>“Please, Y/N.” Arthur takes your hand in his and gives it a tight squeeze. “I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate. You have to try.”</p><p>You look down at his large hand enveloping your own and then into his eyes, bloodshot and pleading. “Christ…” you sigh. “What am I even supposed to say?”</p><p>“Just help him see straight. Make him forget about riches and revenge. Right now, we need to focus on survivin’.”</p><p>“Alright,” you say and Arthur’s shoulders sag with relief. “I’ll do my best.”</p><p>“Thank you, Y/N,” Arthur squeezes your hand tight. “You’re doin’ us all a great deed.”</p><p>“But I’m not guaranteeing anything,” you warn, “and I’m not doing it tonight.” You look up at the vacant balcony. “Not when he’s like this.”</p><p>“Of course, I understand.” Arthur nods and clasps your shoulder gently. “I better go find Hosea, see can I drag him back here. Thank you again, Y/N. I’ll be seeing you later.”</p><p>“Okay, Arthur. Be safe.” You smile wanly as he takes his leave and you watch his retreating figure for a moment before returning to the washing again.</p><p>You scrub at the bloodstain for ten more minutes before you conclude your efforts are futile. You consider firing the pants into the swampy waters for the gators to feed on. That would improve your mood considerably if they were Micah’s trousers, but you’re almost certain they’re not so you put them in the basket for drying and decide to sew a patch over the stain later.</p><p>If only every problem in life could be solved with a simple patch.</p><p>*******************</p><p>The rest of the afternoon passes as many others do. You go about your chores, help Pearson peel and chop up some veg for the stew and brush down your horse. At dinner you eat with Karen and Lenny, their company cheering you up somewhat. Hosea and Arthur return to camp after dinner, grim-faced but calm. They both greet you warmly in turn.</p><p>Dutch has not made an appearance all day. There is a palpable tension in camp and you catch a few people cast fleeting glances up to the balcony to check if he is there. You had avoided going up to the room you share with him all day, figuring you would leave him to his seclusion if he so wished. He would come down when he was ready.</p><p>But then the hours pass, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and he still has not shown his face. You’re sitting around the campfire with a few others, not paying attention to the conversation going on around you when you decide to work up the nerve to go check on him.</p><p>You stand up and excuse yourself quietly. Everyone is too busy laughing at Javier (who currently has Bill in a headlock) to notice. Everyone except Arthur, of course. Eyes of a hawk, that one. He nods at you silently and you return the gesture before heading over to Pearson’s pot where you fill up a bowl of stew. You grab a spoon and a bottle of beer and enter the house to head upstairs.</p><p>You listen outside the bedroom door for a beat, but hear no movement. You take a deep breath and steel yourself before knocking lightly. “Dutch,” you announce yourself as you open the door. “Can I come in?”</p><p>The room is dim, illuminated by a few flickering candles and the light of the full moon. It is eerily quiet until his voice penetrates the silence. “Enter.” He’s sitting facing away from you in a battered wingback by the fireplace.</p><p>Feeling like a courtier being summoned, you close the door behind you and approach him slowly. The floorboards creak ominously beneath your feet. “Haven’t seen you since this morning,” you say, standing at his side. “Figured you could do with something to eat.”</p><p>He does not look at you, his gaze fixed on nothing in  particular beyond the balcony doors. “Not hungry,” he says brusquely. “I don’t need to be reminded of my mealtimes like a child.”</p><p>You clench your jaw and fight the urge to dump the piping stew in his lap and tell him to <i>quit acting like a damn child then. </i> Your sense of self-preservation prevails, however, so you keep your temper in check and set the bowl and beer down on the sideboard on the other end of the room. You see the shattered remains of an oil lantern on the ground behind the door and figure that must have been what you heard smashing earlier.</p><p>“Alright. Perhaps later then.” You return to his side and wait for him to acknowledge you. When that is not forthcoming, you unfurl his hand that is balled into a fist on the arm of the chair and take it in your own. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Talk?” He laughs, a cruel, mirthless sound. “All people want to do nowadays is talk—incessantly. They bemoan, they pester and oh, how they <i>advise</i>, and yet they say nothing at all!”</p><p>His grip on your hand is crushing and you wrench it free, frowning. “Dutch, I—”</p><p>“Are you going to impart your wisdom now, my dear?” He looks at you then and his eyes are cold and hard as ice. “Are you the next in line to offer me counsel?”</p><p>“I didn’t come here to argue with you, Dutch,” you say slowly, willing your heart to stop pounding in your ears. It would not do to retaliate when he is in this black mood. “I came to see if you were alright. I see now that you want to be alone, so I’ll leave you be.”</p><p>You turn to leave but he catches your wrist and draws you back. “Wait,” he says and his voice is strained, his eyes beseeching. “Don’t leave… Please.”</p><p>It’s as good as an apology as you’ll ever get from him, you know from experience. He looks up at you entreatingly and you sigh heavily. “Alright. But you’re not to take your frustrations with them out on me.”</p><p>“I know. I won’t.” he nods and pulls you into his lap. You settle against his familiar warmth and circle your arms around his neck. He presses a kiss to your jaw. “Thank you.”</p><p>“What’s wrong, Dutch?” You smooth back his hair, stiff with pomade and place your hand on the side of his face.  Your thumb strokes the dark circle under his eye. “What’s going on up there, hm?”</p><p>“They’re driving me to the brink, Y/N.” He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. “All the naysayers and doubters—they have a problem with everything but a solution for nothing.”</p><p>“You mean Hosea and Arthur?”</p><p>“Them especially. But everyone else too.” He stares off into middle distance again, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “I see it in their eyes... how they look at me when they think my back is turned. I hear the whispers too,” he scowls, his hands balling into fists once more. “Their snivelling, sycophantic posturing as if they’re so<i> concerned</i>. The filthy aspersions they cast!”</p><p>Sensing his temper flaring again, you draw his head to your bosom. “Hush now. Don’t get yourself worked up.” A vein throbs in his temple and you trace it with your finger gently. “People are scared, Dutch and when they’re scared, they look to the strongest for answers.”</p><p>He huffs out a growl. “I give them answers and all I’m met with is more complaining, more questions, more <i> doubt</i>.”</p><p>“I know, darlin’,” you placate him, stroking the stubble on his face gently. “I know you’ll lead us right and they all know it too. We just need things to settle down for a bit first.”</p><p>You feel his jaw clench beneath your touch. “And of course Micah won’t let me forget about the Goddamn money in Blackwater.”</p><p>You hum softly and nod. You care for Micah about as much as you do for the scum you scrape off the sole of your boot, but for whatever reason, Dutch tolerates the bastard—values him even—  so you choose your words carefully. “Micah…” you say, “doesn’t have to consider the welfare of the rest of the gang like you do. He doesn’t understand the burden you have to bear.”</p><p>He exhales heavily through his nose, lays his head on your breast. “No one else understands,” he says, clasping the hand that is stroking his face. “No one but you.”</p><p>“How could they?” you ask, your heart beating softly against his cheek. “You’re a lion among sheep.” You smile as he kisses your fingers. “A king among ordinary men.”</p><p>A low rumble rolls deep in his chest and when he looks up at you, his eyes are dark and intense. “Will you help me forget it all?” he asks, almost whispering. “For a little while at least.”</p><p>Your heart swells and you smile. “Anything for my king.”</p><p>You take his face in your hands and capture his lips in a kiss. He groans into your mouth and you feel him stir beneath you, already stiff with arousal. “My Queen…” he murmurs, his broad hand sweeps over your neck. His thumb tilts your jaw back and he mouths at your pulse. You draw in a deep breath and reach up to remove the pins in your hair, allowing it to tumble over your shoulders, just how he likes it.</p><p>“I'm going to take my sweet time with you tonight, my dear.” He rips open your blouse and you ignore the buttons as they fall to the floor— you never liked it much anyway. You lift your arms as your chemise is pulled off over your head and you gasp as he begins to mouth at your bare breasts. “Want you begging me for it.”</p><p>“Mm, yes…” You chew your lip as he licks your nipple and inhale a sharp breath when he takes it between his teeth. Your head falls back and he suckles gently to soothe the bite. “Oh God,” you whimper, a throbbing heat unfurling between your legs. It’s so good already. The pain and pleasure one and the same.</p><p>“No God to help you now, my little dove.” Dutch smirks and grasps your buttocks, standing in one fluid motion and you wrap your arms and legs around him, marvelling at his strength. You press your mouth to his and rock against his bulging arousal with a moan.</p><p>“Need you, Dutch,” you whisper against his lips. “Need all of you.”</p><p>“All in good time, my sweet.” He grins and drops you on the bed before unceremoniously pulling off your skirt and undergarments. You kick off your boots and socks and lay back, watching him survey your nude body hungrily. The way he stands over you fully clothed as you lay there prone and waiting is almost too much to bear. Your hand drifts slowly down past your navel.</p><p>“Don’t.” He says and the bite in his tone is enough to still your hand. “That’s mine. You don’t touch it unless I tell you so.”</p><p>You release a shuddering breath as a wave of arousal pools in your centre. He knows the effects his commands have on you—thoroughly enjoys it too if the wild look in his eyes and the bulge in his trousers is anything to by. He knows you’re powerless to refuse him. Gets off on it just as much as you. The perfect sadist.</p><p>You let your hand fall to the side and press your knees together to alleviate some of the pressure throbbing between your legs. He slips off his waistcoat and sets it aside, then unbuttons his shirt halfway, never removing his eyes from you. “You’ll take what I give you, when I decide to give it,” he says, circling round to the side of the bed, “and you’ll thank me for the privilege.”</p><p>Your breath is coming heavier now and you swallow thickly. “Yes, sir,” you say softly and if that doesn’t just set off the most beautiful fire in his eyes.</p><p>“She can behave when she knows what’s good for her.” He sits on the edge of the bed and removes his cufflinks, setting them on the bedside locker and rolling up his sleeves to reveal his thick forearms. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” He goes to take off his rings next, but you catch his wrist to halt him.</p><p>“Don’t,” you say and he regards you with a quizzical look. You bite your lip as you feel a blush rise high on your cheeks as you part your legs invitingly. “Please… Leave them on.”</p><p>His smirk is knowing and a chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. “Oh, my sweet, depraved little angel,” he says fondly and joins you on the bed to crawl over you. He braces his elbows either side of your head, holding his weight over you and whispers against your mouth. “What I’m going to do to you.”</p><p>He kisses a path from your neck down to your chest where he sucks and bites and the tender flesh of your breasts and you writhe beneath him, running your hands over his broad shoulders. You want to tear his shirt off to feel his skin beneath yours, but you know better than to displease him by taking more than you’re given.</p><p>Besides, the thought of him fully clothed, boots with spurs on and all, as you lie naked beneath him is a huge turn on. Yet another quirk to add to the ever-expanding list of things you did not know got you off until you met Dutch Van Der Linde.</p><p>His rough hands smooth over your stomach and you repress a shudder as he touches the heat between your legs. “What have we here.” You gasp as he slides his fingers between your lips, your arousal evident. “So wet for me already.” He smiles languid and slow. “That’s my girl.”</p><p>“Yes, Dutch,” you pant with anticipation. “All for you.”</p><p>Pleased, he hums with approval and caresses your folds before slipping his index finger in with ease. You release a blissful sigh and grab onto the curls at the nape of his neck. He slides in his middle finger and your breath hitches when you feel the cold metal of his ring inside you. It’s a large onyx and gold signet ring inscribed with a gothic<i> D</i>. You might have considered it gaudy on anyone else, but on Dutch, it’s most becoming. It goes well with the ring on his little finger: a gold lion with rubies set in its eyes. It suits your lionheart perfectly, you think.</p><p>You welcome the intrusion as he slips a third finger inside you, moaning his name as the stone rubs against your entrance. “So tight and so wet…” he breathes, moving his fingers slowly in and out of you, watching your face contort with pleasure. “Perfect little cunny.”</p><p>“Yes,” you whimper and make a fist in his hair as his fingers curl inside you. “All yours, Dutch. All yours.”</p><p>He massages your inner walls but his eyes never leave your face. “You gonna take all my fingers, sweet girl?” You nod breathlessly and his teeth glint in the moonlight. “You’d take my whole fist if I was so inclined.”</p><p>You know you would, but part of you hopes he is not so inclined because all four of his fingers are inside you now and you can’t see how you could possibly accommodate any more, stretched tight around him as you are. He’s inside you right up to his knuckles and the pleasure-pain is just so perfect you feel your body tingle all over.</p><p>“Mm, that’d be a pretty sight indeed.” He presses his mouth to your ear and you hear that is breathing is not quite as measured as his voice. “But then I wouldn’t be able to do this.” You groan as his thumb begins to circle your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you still and you feel impossibly wet.</p><p>“Dutch, please,” you gasp, your chest heaving, your release building. “Please. I need to…”</p><p>“We<i> need</i>  for very little in this life, my dear,” he says, almost conversationally. His tone, however, belies the delight he derives from your current condition. “Some food, water, shelter maybe. Right now you <i>want</i>  to come on my fingers, you don’t need it.” You whine as he hooks his fingers inside you, all the while massaging your clit. “Say it.”</p><p>You swallow, force some breath into your lungs. “I-- I want to come on your fingers.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“I want to come on your fingers, sir,” you cry, barely holding it together. “<i>Please</i>, let me come.”</p><p>“Greedy girl.” He smirks, all too pleased with himself and bites the shell of your ear. “Go on then. Come for me.”</p><p>You call out his name and allow your release to wash over you. It jolts you from your head to your toes, the very soles of your feet tingling with pleasure as he works his fingers in and out of you. He covers your mouth with his own and swallows your cries. You ride his hand through the waves of ecstasy until the stimulation against your clit becomes too much and you fall back against the sheets with a soft moan.</p><p>“That was beautiful, my love,” he says, slowly withdrawing his fingers with care. He kisses your forehead and presses his mouth to your temple. “So good for me. My perfect little treasure.”</p><p>Still dizzy from your release, you catch your breath and take his wrist and bring his hand to your lips. You hum as you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself. He groans, low and pained as you lick the rings clean.</p><p>“Oh, my sweet. I won’t be able to look at these now without thinking of them inside you.” He takes your jaw and brings your mouths close together. “You coming around them.”</p><p>“You and me both,” you smile and he captures your lips in a kiss, his tongue pressing deep into your mouth as he grinds his clothed arousal against your hip.</p><p>“You taste so good,” he breaks apart to breathe against your lips. “Now I feel like I’m missing out.” He moves down the bed between your thighs and before you register what’s going on, the heat of his tongue slides between your folds.</p><p>You cry out from shock and overstimulation, your body jerking violently as he licks your overly sensitive clit. You attempt to wriggle free from his grasp, but his hold on your thighs is bruising. “Dutch,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair insistently. “Dutch, it’s too much. I can’t—”</p><p>He lifts his head for a moment. “You can,” he says firmly in that tone that brokers no argument, “and you will.” He starts lapping at your pussy again, his fingers pressing bruises into your inner thighs and your body goes taut. The pleasure is all too much and not enough at once and your toes curl into the sheets as the onslaught continues.</p><p>You spine arches and he splays his hand across your belly to still you. When he suckles at your clit you are sent over the edge and you bite your fist against a scream as hot, blinding pleasure surges through you once more. You cry out as it wracks your entire body and he licks you through it with fervour.</p><p>When you are spent, you lie panting with your eyes closed, red and black flashes dancing behind your lids. “I know you too well, sweet girl.” Dutch says and you feel him move up your body. You love the feeling of his weight settling upon you as he crushes your mouths together, sharing in the taste of your bliss. “I know what you need,” he murmurs against your lips. “I know exactly what you want, before you even realise it yourself.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah?” You smile and wrap your legs around him, your hands moving to undo the buckle of his belt.</p><p>“Mm hm,” he nods, smoothing hair back off your brow. “For one, I know just how bad you want Arthur.”</p><p>You freeze instantly and draw back to take in his expression. He appears calm— smiling softly even— but his eyes are intently watching you in turn. “Dutch.” You’re so taken aback, you don’t know to begin to address it. “Why would you say a thing like that?”</p><p>“It’s alright, he’s a good-looking lad,” Dutch soothes, petting your hair gently. “Always was popular with the girls, our Arthur. Of course, he’d act oblivious to it all, which appeals to them even more.”</p><p>You want to sit up, ask him is this some sort of warped attempt at humour, but his weight pins you beneath him. Despite his gentle touch, his eyes betray no amusement and you feel cold tendrils of panic clutch at your chest. “He’s my friend, Dutch,” you say calmly, trying to retain some modicum of control over the situation before things got out of hand. “I don’t see him in that way.”</p><p>Arthur was undeniably handsome as well as sweet and caring to boot, but it was Dutch you loved. It was only ever him you wanted. You treasured your friendship with Arthur. It was one of fondness and mutual respect, never anything sexual. How Dutch had gotten this idea into his head and why he was bringing it up now was beyond comprehension.</p><p>“Where is this coming from?” you ask, lifting tentative fingers to stroke his jaw.</p><p>“I’ve thought about it for some time now,” he says, absently tracing a furrow in your brow with his thumb. “Then I saw you speaking earlier today.” Something like a smirk tugs at his mouth. “When he took your hand.”</p><p>Your heart skips a beat. “It wasn’t anything like that. Dutch, I swear—”</p><p>“Does he want you to conspire against me too?” Dutch asks. His touch remains gentle, but his eyes are wide and the flickering tapers cast strange shadows across his face. “Are he and Hosea attempting to recruit you to their mutinous cause?”</p><p>“<i>No</i>,” you say firmly. “Nobody’s conspiring against you. He wanted me to check in on you, is all. Talk to you about things.”</p><p>“Things,” he laughs bitterly. “Make me see <i>his</i>  way, you mean.”</p><p>“He cares for you. They all do,” you placate, kissing the corner of his mouth. “They just… they don’t understand.”</p><p>“So they subvert me and encroach upon your loyalty instead?”</p><p>“Dutch…” You swallow against a lump in your throat and the hot sting of tears. “I’d never betray you.”</p><p>He sighs and the harsh lines of his features soften. “I know you wouldn’t, my sweet angel.” He presses his forehead to yours. “You’ve proven your devotion to me many times over. But I can no longer trust them not to try steal you away from me.” He exhales a ragged breath and takes your face in his hands. “Don’t you understand? I simply cannot allow it.”</p><p>You don’t understand. In fact, you’re failing to make any sense of what he’s getting at in this paranoid delirium. What you do know is that this conversation is spiralling more and more into dangerous territory and you need to divert his attention elsewhere.</p><p>“I’m yours, Dutch—<i>yours only</i>. And you’re mine. No one can take that away from us, you hear?” He swallows, then nods his wordless assent and you smile softly. “Now, what’s say we get you out of these clothes, hm?”</p><p>“Alright.” He lays back and allows you to divest him of his boots and clothing, all the while watching you with hooded eyes. You’re glad to see he’s still somewhat erect and you take your time crawling up the bed over him before you take him in your mouth. His low moan is bliss to your ears and you hum around his cock as he threads his long fingers through your hair.</p><p>“Mm. That’s right,” he grunts, gritting his teeth as you suck on the glistening head. “You know how I like it, don’t you?” You relax your throat, resisting the urge to gag as you take him deeper and his fingers curl against your scalp. “Look at me, angel. Show me those pretty eyes with my cock in your mouth.”</p><p>You look up at him through watery eyes and a guttural groan rumbles from deep in his chest. “Get up here,” he growls urgently. He pulls you off and draws you into his arms, kissing you deeply before flipping you over so you find yourself laying on your belly with him straddling your legs. You raise your hips invitingly and are rewarded with a sharp smack on the buttocks.</p><p>“Just can’t wait for it can you?” he says, his calloused palms running over your ass before smacking you again, hard. “So hungry for cock.”</p><p>You gasp at the sting and keen under his touch. “Just your cock, sir.” You whine when he slaps your ass again and you throb with need for him. “Please… Please, fuck me.”</p><p>You yelp when he slaps you again for good measure and you know there’ll be marks in the morning. But you also know he’ll revisit each one with his mouth and you’ll treasure each one like a badge of honour because he gifted them to you.</p><p>He lifts your hips and slides his cock into you. You’re incredibly wet, so the passage is forgiving, but it takes you a moment to accommodate his girth. His cock, like the rest of him, is big and thick. You breathe heavily as he pushes forward, filling you up with that inexorable slide.</p><p>“Oh, Dutch…” you pant, curling your fingers into the sheets. “So fucking <i>big</i>.”</p><p>“Yes,” he hisses between his teeth, pressing his hips forward. “Love seeing your tight little cunt stretched around me.”</p><p>You moan when he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass. He holds you there, his cock deep inside you and its almost too much to bear at once, until he draws back and fucks into again and the sound you make would be welcome in a whorehouse.</p><p>“That’s it,” he groans and starts fucking you in earnest, his hands braced on your hips. “Take it like a good girl.” Each snap of his hips pushes the breath and indistinguishable sounds out of you. You feel impossibly wet—<i>impossibly full</i> —and you feel your release start to build again.</p><p>“Please, sir,” you manage between sharp thrusts. “<i>Ah</i> —please, can I come?”</p><p>“Go on” You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Come on my cock.”</p><p>Your fingers move to your clit and you’ve just barely stimulated yourself when your orgasm washes over you. He fucks you through it, hard and fast as white-hot pleasure courses through you. You cry out in ecstasy and he fucks you harder still, his own thrusts becoming more erratic as you clench around him.</p><p>He calls out your name when he comes, pulling out at the last second to spill his seed over your marked-up ass. Recollecting your breath in your own post-orgasm bliss, your hands are splayed out before you and he covers them with his own, twining your fingers together as he collapses on top of you. The air is knocked out of you, but you welcome his weight and the sensation of the coarse hair of his chest brushing against your back.</p><p>You lay there in silence for a few minutes, both of your ragged breathing the only sound to be heard. You think he may have dosed off on top of you, his mouth pressed to your skin, but then he stirs and sucks a bruise into the base of your neck.</p><p>“I love you, angel.” he says when he draws back, lips pressed against your ear, his fingers squeezing yours. “You won’t ever leave me, will you?”</p><p>It strikes you as an odd question, laid out naked beneath him as you are, his seed drying itchy on your skin. You do not speak, instead pressing your lips to the golden lion with rubies for eyes.</p><p>You both already know the answer.</p>
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